


Star-Crossed on a Glass Case

by throughtheparadox



Series: When I Say Run, Run [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adlock, F/M, sherlock x irene - Freeform, the adlock yacht
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughtheparadox/pseuds/throughtheparadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to the story 'When I Say Run, Run', Sherlock and Irene's ill-starred destiny crosses once more, four years after they parted. Upon seeing each other again, secrets will be revealed and decisions will have to made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Thread

**_"According to an East Asian belief, people who are destined to be together are connected by an invicible Red Thread of Fate. No matter how long it stretches, it would never be broken and will always bring the two people it binds back together."_ **

A dream.

No. A memory.

Sherlock woke up with cold beads of sweat running down to his neck, his breathing heavy. He was never much of a dreamer but ever since Irene left, fractions of their time together kept on popping up in his mind.

Not that it bothered him.

Today marked the fourth year of their last day together-the day they shared one last kiss before he saw her disappear into the night, buckling in tears.

Sherlock shook his head, cussing at the thought. He was fine. Absolutely. No one could tell him otherwise.

No one even tries to mention Irene anymore. Not after his fit a few days after she left.

_"Just one more bottle, John!" he remembered saying as John tried to steady him to his feet. His vision was blurry, his head light, his heart heavy-what else is there left to feel?_

_John struggled to keep him upright, Lestrade assisting him. Mary and Molly kept on apologising to the people who were starting to be bothered by Sherlock's wailing._

_"Just let me have one moreeeee... Just... What are you looking at?" Sherlock snapped, pointing at random strangers who were giving him strange looks._

_"That's it!" John exclaimed, hitting his cheek with a right cross which caused it to bleed._

_"Hit me all you want John. It won't hurt me. Nothing can hurt me anymore!" He continued on screeching. Lestrade waded the people away for John to be able to push him out the pub._

_As he leaned lazily on the wall, Mary tried to reason with him. "Sherlock, calm down... What is this about?"_

_"Nothing! I'm fine! I'm absolutely fine! Fine! Fine! Fine!" Sherlock continued babbling, making John swear in annoyance. Lestrade flipped out his phone and somehow started filming the drunk detective._

_Molly walked over to Sherlock, her expression saddened. "If this is about Irene..."_

_Sherlock stared at Molly as if she had thrown profanities at him. "I don't want to talk about THE WOMAN. No... No..."_

_"You are an absolute cock, Sherlock Holmes! You let her go and now you're acting like a child!" John spat and Mary hit her husband slightly on the arm, giving him a look._

_Sherlock's eyes sharpened upon hearing John's words. "I didn't want to! I had to! I HAD TO! And call me a cock or a piece of shit but I will make that same choice over and over and over JUST TO KEEP HER SAFE!"_

_At that, Sherlock's knees weakened. He fell to the floor, his whole body trembling as tears escaped his eyes. He could blame the alcohol or the drugs he started taking again but it couldn't be denied. He was devastated._

_Lestrade shoved his phone to his pocket and started to kneel beside Sherlock. Mary and Molly's eyes started to glisten in tears at the sight of him. John swore, shaking his head at the detective's confession._

_"I want her back... But it's not the best, isn't it?" he heard himself say before he could even stop the words from spilling out his mouth._

A knock on the door snapped him out of his recollection. Mycroft stood at the doorframe, wearing a stoic expression.

"Busy doing nothing, brother dear?" The older Holmes snapped.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Mycroft?"

Mycroft smiled sourly, welcoming himself by sitting on the couch. "I need your help on a case."

Sherlock sneered. "Your 'goldfish' not doing enough good work for you?"

"This is a powerplay, Sherlock. I know well enough things like this... Excite you." Mycroft mused with a hint of malice. Of course he remembered that such a case led him to Irene before and Mycroft would never pass up an opportunity to spite him.

Seeing that his brother didn't respond, Mycroft continued. "The case involves Albert Norton, a lawyer who is allegedly working with clients who are... well... withholding some critical information that could expose national secrets."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"He acts as their negotiator. Not money or blackmail in exchange of the information... You know the drill, Sherlock. This is familiar territory." Mycroft explained with a smirk.

"I'm far too busy... Surely you can come up with something." Sherlock replied coldly.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and sighed. As he headed for the door, he stopped on his heel. "I almost forgot," he said as he took out an envelope from his coat pocket and placing it on the table near Sherlock, "Apparently, Irene Adler is back in London. Headed to Orrery. Thought you ought to know."

And with that Mycroft left.

Sherlock stared at the envelope, a heavy weight on his chest building. Irene is here in London? And what is she doing in Marylebone... Orrery for that matter?

Giving out a sigh, Sherlock reached for the envelope and was greeted by photographs of Irene, probably taken tonight. She was wearing a black fur coat and her Louboutins, her hair fixed like the first time they met. Sherlock felt a lump build on his throat as he drank in her image, somehow feeling the pain of the last four years peel off.

Mycroft must have something planned out for him to dangle this to his face, Sherlock figured. But the idea of seeing Irene again tingled every fibre of his being.

With no time to waste, Sherlock dressed up and headed out the door. Only a couple of blocks away, Sherlock tried to calm himself as he headed to Orrery. His hands were cold against his pockets, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he neared his destination, a familiar face stood out from the street. The world seemed to blur, ears turning deaf at the sight of her-Irene Adler.

Apparently, she saw him too for she also stopped on her heel, her eyes widening at the sight of him. With his feet dragging him along, Sherlock walked closer towards her, both their expressions unreadable, their hearts pounding loudly in their chests.

"Irene..." he breathed as their eyes met once more.


	2. Three's A Company

He wanted to reach for her face, to take her into his arms but there was something in the way she was looking at him that told him to stand his ground.

"What are you doing here?" Irene asked, her voice almost in distress.

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed, studying her expression. "Shouldn't I ask you the same question?"

Irene bit her lip, her eyes filled with worry. "Who told you I was back in London?"

Sherlock tried to understand the situation. Orrery... Irene all dressed up... "I see. You're with a client." he muttered, trying to sound distant.

"No... I-" Irene paused when a man with dark hair and aquiline features came up behind her. Seeing that he was dressed in a sharp suit, Sherlock figured that this man is Irene's companion for the night.

"Lucia... I just got off the cab. Strange being back in London, am I right?" said the man, planting a kiss on Irene's lips. His sharp eyes flickered to Sherlock, widening in recognition.

"Mr. Holmes, is it? Huge fan! My name is Godfrey Norton." the man said, extending a hand to Sherlock. The detective simply glanced Godfrey, his eyes reverting back to Irene.

Taking back his hand and giving a slight chuckle, Godfrey replaced his arm around Irene. "You didn't tell me you knew the Great Sherlock Holmes!"

Irene's lowered her eyes, unable to meet Sherlock's gaze. "He's... an old colleague."

"Colleague... Hm." Sherlock hissed, almost rolling his eyes.

"Would you like to join us, Mr. Holmes? Lucia and I were about to have dinner." Mr. Norton suggested.

Lucia... So Irene didn't tell him about her true identity. She used a fake one-the one Mycroft and himself arranged after Karachi-Lucia Bennett. Sherlock kept his hands on his pockets, trembling as he clenched them in fists.

"Dinner?" Sherlock repeated, spiting Irene at the word. Giving a sour smile, Sherlock replied. "Seeing that you will propose to her tonight, I wouldn't want to intrude. Three's a company, don't you think?"

"Propose?" Irene exclaimed, her eyes widening, from surprise or horror Sherlock couldn't tell. Her lips were quivering and she shot him an apologetic glance. Sherlock tried to remain cold.

Godfrey smiled sheepishly, his palm on his nape. "You don't miss much, as you reputation say." he told Sherlock.

"I won't disturb you, then. Good night." Sherlock muttered, turning his back on both Irene and Mr. Norton.

He could feel Irene's lingering stare on the back of his head and he had an immense urge to run. Breathing slowly, he did long strides to keep his dignity intact. What was he thinking? Of course a lot of things had changed! They were apart for four years, goddammit!

But still, part of him ached.

Irene, on the other hand, still has her eyes trained on Sherlock's leaving image. She let herself be dragged by Godfrey, both of them heading inside Orrery. The expression-or the lack thereof-on Sherlock's face lingered on her head, making her insides lurch.

Stopping abruptly, Irene almost tripped if it weren't for Godfrey's hand on hers.

"Everything okay, darling?" Mr. Norton asked, his hand finding the small of her back.

Irene smiled at him weakly, nodding. "Do you mind if I run after Mr. Holmes? I forgot to... Erm... I was supposed to tell him something when I arrived here. A message from another colleague from New York." Of course she was just making an excuse. She couldn't bear that image of cold expression he held in his eyes.

Godfrey grinned. "Of course, love. Good thing he found you here tonight, then, eh? Lessens the bother. Would you like me to come with you?"

Irene shook her head. "Oh no. I'll be quick."

As Godfrey told the attendant about his table reservation, Irene walked out the door and ran after Sherlock who was about to hail a cab. At the sound of her clicking heels he turned and shook his head at the cabbie.

"Problem, Ms. Adler?" he asked coldly.

"So it's back to 'Ms. Adler' now?" she asked, crossing her arms as she tried to catch her breath.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh sorry. I forgot. It's Ms. Bennett now, is it? Or do you prefer 'future Mrs. Norton'?" he spat.

"I need him... You don't understand." Irene hissed.

"Everything is quite clear, actually. Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to back in Baker Street." Sherlock replied bitterly.

"You wouldn't even let me explain?" Irene asked, agitated.

"I've seen enough to know." Sherlock simply said.

Irene scoffed, her grey eyes stormy. "And because you're so clever, you won't even listen to what I have to say? You are a prick, Sherlock Holmes!"

With nothing else left to say, Irene turned her back on him, her shoulders shaking in anger.

"Congratulations on your engagement." Sherlock whispered as he watched The Woman walk away from him, the memories of their last night together vividly flashing in his eyes.


	3. Puzzle Pieced

Sherlock tossed and turned, trying to dispel the anguish he was feeling. Grabbing four nicotine patches from his bedside drawer and planting it on his arm, Sherlock shivered at the shock it had caused. Some dizzying pleasure entered his system, almost calming him down.

Almost.

He could still picture Irene's grey eyes staring at him, the way it stung when she regarded him as an "old colleague." Is that all there is to it?

He should've let her explain, yes, but it is bright as day the moment that man-Godfrey Norton-planted a kiss on her lips. The way he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated at the moment suggested this man is in fact in love with Irene Adler. And knowing her story, Sherlock figured Irene wouldn't just let any man be with her if she wasn't in love with him.

So everything that had happened before... Was it even real?

Of course they are faced with danger, chaos, destruction-that is their world. But maybe she just used her wishes for his safety to run away from him. To escape that mortifying life.

Sherlock gritted his teeth in frustration. He wanted it to be real. Of course, this is the very reason why sentiment is toxic... It burns him alive.

He could still remember the night when they were both discharged from the hospital-the night before Coventry. He could still feel the way she kissed him as if every thread of their being sealed that kiss. The way his fingers fumbled over the zipper of her dress, his mouth tracing the curve of her neck, throat, breasts...

She was quivering under his touch, both of them oblivious to the injuries they were still recovering in, his tongue rolling over her scars, whispering how he loved every inch of her-whether it be perfection or imperfection. He recalled the way Irene raked his back as they joined, her breath warm against his ear as pushed into her, deeper and deeper in passion, her voice calling out his name at every plunge.

In perfect memory, he could still see her image-lips swollen from their kisses, hair tangled and splayed against the pillow, eyes half-lidded but staring at him lovingly-all of which he hold dear in his heart.

Was she just lying to him the entire time? Was it just a game?

Is she happy now that she had won?

Shaking in anger, Sherlock started throwing and swiping the kitchen table, causing his test tubes and beakers to shatter on the floor. Dropping to his knees, he shut his eyes tight with his hands clenched to fists.

"Oh!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as she appeared on the doorframe, immediately trying to raise Sherlock by the shoulder. "What happened here?" she asked, looking around, immense concern evident in her voice. "You hands are bleeding! Oh dear!"

Sherlock raised his bloody hands, pain started to hit his fingertips. Still, his insides felt nothing, ears deaf to whatever it was that Mrs. Hudson was saying.

As soon as the rays of the sun glinted outside the windowpane of 221B, John Watson arrived. "Sherlock, what happened here?" Noticing the mess on the kitchen.

"I assumed that you know, seeing how early you cam. Mrs. Hudson already told you so why ask?" Sherlock simply replied, eyes fixed far ahead.

"Just stop, Sherlock. Stop the "I'm so clever" act. Mrs. Hudson was crying when she called, can't take the image of your bloody hand off her head." John hissed.

"She's being dramatic." Sherlock replied.

"And so are you." John bit back, causing Sherlock to snap his head to the doctor's direction.

"Why are you here, John?" Sherlock asked exasperated.

John swallowed, fidgeting slightly as he reached for something is his pocket. "This is what it's about, isn't it?"

Sherlock studied what was in John's hand, feeling an invisible fist land on his chest as he realised what it was. An invitation.

"Where did you... No... Don't answer it. She brought it you personally." Sherlock muttered.

"Quite a surprise to me and Mary, actually. I thought it was from both of you... But clearly not." John mused.

"You didn't open it." Sherlock said.

John shook his head. "She said it was for you. And anyone you would want to take."

Sherlock just stared at John coldly, his mind reeling. Was Irene trying to insult him?

"When did you find out she was back?" John asked quietly.

"Last night." Sherlock replied.

"Oh."

"What else did she say?"

John shifted his weight, trying to read Sherlock's stoic expression. "She said she was sorry."

"I'd like to be alone, John. Give my love to Mary and Elizabeth." Sherlock said, his voice on the brink of cracking.

John sighed, nodding.

"The invitation, John. I'll have it." he heard Sherlock say, making him stop halfway to the door.

"You're not seriously thinking of going?" John asked, looking at Sherlock with concern.

Sherlock stretched out his hand and John clicked his tongue in resignation. He handed to invitation to Sherlock and looked at his friend sadly one last time before leaving.

Made of high-quality paper, laced with perfume, gold trimmings-the invitation spells high-profile marriage. Design is very personalised though, each signed by the couple-very private-visitors are narrowed down to close family and friends. Very selective guest list.

Sherlock's eyes trained on the message, his mind suddenly blazed at what he saw.

**_MR. AND MRS. ALBERT NORTON REQUEST THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY_ **

**_AT THE MARRIAGE OF LUCIA ELISE BENNETT TO THEIR SON, GODFREY JAMES NORTON, ON THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER, 4:00PM IN COOMBE ABBEY, BRINKLOW ROAD, BINLEY, WARWICKSHIRE. RECEPTION TO FOLLOW._ **

Irene's fiancé is Albert Norton's son-the lawyer whose clientele hold national intelligence.

Everything seemed clearer now. This was Mycroft's play all along.


	4. Masquerade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a fanart regarding this fic which is posted in my blog here: throughtheparadox.tumblr.com/post/103975608673/something-i-came-up-with-for-the-4th-chapter-of-my
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

"Finally figured it out, Sherlock? Took you a lot longer than I had expected. You are getting dull." Mycroft said, his lips quirking upward as he spat the words to his younger brother.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, the invitation to Irene-well, Lucia Bennett- and Godfrey Norton's wedding lay innocently on top of the fireplace. Mycroft picked it up, studying the paper and smiling sourly. "How does this make you feel?" The older Holmes said.

"If you think you could make me work on this case by using The Woman, then you're just wasting time." Sherlock hissed.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Are you forgetting that the only reason why you're back to the comfort of your flat, happily living with your "friends" is because I pulled some strings? Now, the security of the nation lies in your hands and you will get into this case or else."

"Is that a threat?" Sherlock mused.

"Yes, brother mine, it is." Mycroft replied. "Also, Irene Adler's 'identity' is also in the loop. If my 'friends' find your actions uncooperative, then you drag her in as well... There is also the files on Mary Watson's 'false documents'... Too much on the line just because your pride got in the way."

Sherlock gritted his teeth, wanting to crush Mycroft's throat using his bare hands. Quite annoying that he has a point. Not that Sherlock would admit it.

"They would be in a charity ball tomorrow night-Ms. Adler and Mr. Norton along with 'company'... I took the liberty of getting you in the guest list." Mycroft announced as he headed for the door.

Stopping on his heel, he turned back to his brother. "Oh and by the way... It's a masquerade ball."

***

"Sherlock Holmes." the detective told the usher as he arrived at the venue. Dressed in a purple button-down shirt tucked on his black trousers and a fur one-sided cape that Mary insisted on making him wear, plus leather riding boots from Lestrade, he looked like someone cut out straight from a dark and mysterious novel. His dark curls fall over the dark mask he wore over his blazing blue eyes, the silver accent of the mask glittering against the yellow light of the halls.

As he started making his way over to the ballroom, his mind reeled over the other guests. Politicians, businessmen-most of the people in the room having chronic affairs by the looks of the lower half of their faces, Sherlock deduced- and also a melting pot of power-play and deception.

His eyes scanned the area for Irene-and Mr. Norton to some extent- but to no avail. To his surprise, someone tapped his shoulder.

"Well, you look dashing!" said the woman who called his attention as she took off her blue bejewelled mask. She was wearing a black-laced off shoulder dress and black high heels, her red lips turning into a smile as she scanned him.

"Janine? What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, surprised.

Janine shrugged. "New job, new boss-seriously hope this one's not a nutcase like..." she paused to lean in, "...the last one. Thanks for blowing his brains anyway. Mental, that one." she whispered with a smirk as she directed him towards her new boss with her eyes.

"Not like Magnussen, but you should file your resignation immediately. Drug charge, bank debt... You'll be sent off without pay with that one." Sherlock deduced.

Janine hooked her arm in Sherlock's, grinning as she replaced her mask. "Oh, I missed you... You crazy know-it-all. Come on, let's dance!"

"I'm on a case." Sherlock said, his eyes scanning the area once more.

"Just one. Think of this as my apology for not dancing with you over at John and Mary's wedding." Janine insisted, tugging his arm.

"That's a long time ago." Sherlock replied.

"I'm forgiven, then. Come on." Janine said and Sherlock gave in. People will start to grow suspicious if he just stood there and watched. Might as well blend in.

They quietly swayed to the music, Sherlock not noticing Janine's grin. His eyes darted everywhere, trying to get a hold of Irene's location.

After the song ended, people started to gather around the entrance, welcoming someone who just arrived.

"Fancy and elegant that lot. What can you say about them, Sherl?" Janine asked, nudging Sherlock's side. She looked up and saw him, eyes fixed on the woman dressed in red, black fur wrapped around her shoulders, grey eyes are visible underneath a black mask accented with white and red feathers.

"Do you know her?" Janine asked curiously.

"Yes." Sherlock simply replied, his eyes fully on the arrival of Irene Adler, whose arm intertwined with Godfrey Norton's.

"So she's the one, then?" Janine mused, smiling fondly at him.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, his voice almost deadpan.

"I know what your fake-love look is, Sherlock Holmes. And this is not it." Janine said.

"I don't know what-" Sherlock tried to say but Janine laughed.

"Don't even try to say no. Goodness me, Sherl. Have you saved that engagement ring?" Janine asked.

When Sherlock remained silent, Janine nudged him once more. "They're not yet married, you know. Go get her, tiger!"

Sherlock gave her a small smile.

"I'll leave you then. Better make your move or I'll kick your arse off." Janine said, grinning as she winked and gave him a thumbs up before walking over to her boss.

Sherlock watched as Irene and Godfrey joined the crowd, trailing behind her is Mr. Alfred Norton. He tried to concentrate on the reason why he's here, trying to forget Mycroft's purposive plot to bait him in further.

Many of the guests fawned over the newly engaged couple, the gentlemen reaching and kissing Irene's hand for which she obliged. Sherlock saw Godfrey lead Irene to the dancefloor, his hand on her waist. The detective could feel a lump rise in his throat as he saw Irene smile over what Godfrey had whispered in her ear.

To his surprise, Janine snatched him by the arm and led him near where Irene and Godfrey is. "You are not making much progress are you?" she mused. "Good thing I'm feeling sorry for the trouble I caused you before."

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

"Helping." Janine replied as she danced, bumping to Godfrey in the process. "Oh! I'm so sorry," Janine mused as Godfrey and Irene turned. "...my partner and I got carried away."

Godfrey smiled. "Not a problem, miss... I... Mr. Holmes? Good to see you here."

Sherlock faked a smile. "Mr. Norton, is it? Good to see you too. Apologies for what my friend just did."

Irene's eyes narrowed at the sight of Sherlock and Janine. "No one got hurt so I guess we can all return to our dancing." she said curtly.

"Seeing as how I interrupted you and the mister, I'd say I owe him a dance." Janine mused, offering her hand to Godfrey, which he took.

"Lovely lady you have here, Mr. Holmes. I shall leave you for a moment, darling." he told both Irene and Sherlock. "Better to catch up, then, yes?" he said.

Janine winked at Sherlock. "You're welcome." she mouthed.

"We can't just stand here." Sherlock told Irene, offering his hand. Irene rolled her eyes as she took it.

His hand slid to her waist, hers on his shoulders. They swayed to the music quietly, trying to read each others' eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Irene asked.

"I'm on case." Sherlock replied.

"With her?" Irene said, her eyes trailing on Janine.

"Simply a coincidence." He simply said.

"Clearly." She replied, her tone clipped.

Sherlock felt Irene breathe deeply as he slid his hand from her waist to the small of her back, closing in the distance between them. His other hand, the one holding Irene's, also moved to meet the one on her back.

"What are you doing, Sherlock Holmes?" Irene breathed.

"Dancing. I thought that was fairly obvious." He replied, his heart pounding in his chest.

Irene's hands closed in on his nape, her head leaning on his chest. "I'm getting married."

"I know. Are you happy?" Sherlock whispered.

"Godfrey's a good man." Irene replied.

"And I'm not?" Sherlock mused.

At that, Irene looked up at him, her grey eyes blazing. "This is not about us."

"It is. Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" Sherlock asked.

"I-if you're talking about Godfrey's family, then yes." Irene replied.

"So why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

They studied each other, both lips quivering and skin tingling from both contact and despair.

"Meet me at St. Bart's tomorrow." Irene whispered before Godfrey Norton returned with Janine.

"Here's your lovely lady friend, Mr. Holmes. Could I have my fiancée back now?" Mr. Norton said with a chuckle.


	5. Morgue At Midnight

"Let me get one thing straight... You asked us to come here to take you to Bart's before midnight?" Lestrade asked for the fifth time, eyes questioning John.

"Because he's gonna meet Irene tonight in a bloody morgue." John said, his hands flying in exasperation. "You two are such romantics." He continued, his tone full of sarcasm.

Sherlock rose from the couch, his sight hazy, knees practically wobbling. "I bought beer. You should be thankful."

"Thankful?! You're flat is cloudier than heaven itself!" Lestrade exclaimed, fanning the smoke away from his face. Sherlock's hands were both occupied, a beer can on one and a fag on the other.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Lestrade's remark. "As if you've ever seen heaven, Gordon. Don't be absurd."

"It's Greg." Lestrade hissed.

John tossed the invitation to Lestrade and the detective inspector's eyes grew wide, a smirk surfacing on his face. "So this is what this is about. Irene's getting married in two months and she asked to meet you tonight. Intriguing."

"It's for a case." Sherlock replied grumpily, giving the beer another swig. Taking the moment as an opportunity, John snatched the fag off the detective's hand and stepped on it.

"JOHN!" Sherlock exclaimed, making both Greg and John laugh.

"You look bloody awful. What do you reckon she'd tell you?" Lestrade asked.

"I don't know. Something I don't know yet, I hope." Sherlock slurred.

John smirked. "You just want to see her, information or no information."

"Shut up, John!" Sherlock snapped. "I said it's for a case. Her diamond-crested engagement ring says so."

Lestrade took the can of beer from Sherlock's hand and the detective let him, arms flopping to his side in resignation. "Never really saw her as the marrying type."

"That's why you let her go then? Before?" John asked, wagging his eyebrows at Lestrade who took the liberty of flipping out his phone and started filming Sherlock's mumbling.

"You know why. All of you know! Are you really that stupid that you can't even remember that?!" Sherlock bellowed. He glared at his friends, confused because they started sniggering despite his replies. "What are you laughing at?" he asked.

"Coffee, Greg?" John asked, his smile from ear-to-ear. Sherlock figured they found his internal dilemma amusing.

"Maybe another cup for this bugger." Lestrade replied.

"Why'd you keep on calling him Greg?" Sherlock mused, his head still trying to wrap around the idea of seeing Irene again. It was devastating to him, knowing that together they mean destruction. The last time they were together, both their lives were put to peril, all resulting to a decision to be apart again to save each other. Sherlock never really indulged in the idea of sentiment and this is the exact reason why.

His dreams are still haunted by the feel of her body against his, the way her lips curve to say his name at every kiss, every touch... Abstinence was something in him that Irene took-the reason why she was the distraction he would accommodate whenever his mind is not cracking a code.

John handed him a cup of coffee, possibly attempting to make him sober enough before his meeting with Irene, but he knew deep within himself that no matter how much alcohol run through his bloodstream or how much nicotine stain his nerves, he would never be intoxicated enough to lose the hollow feeling in his chest.

What could Irene possibly tell him? She said she knows what she was getting into, meaning she knows about the Norton's. Even possible that she knows the British Government is onto them.

What if she would tell him that she was working with Mycroft all along? That this mission was both theirs?

Sherlock's mind reeled over the idea, his fingers twitching in anxiety. The possibility of his guess is much more plausible than Irene getting married. If he used this tactic before with Janine, she could do it as well.

After all, their mind is of the same wavelength, he believed.

"Sherlock... Sherlock..." he heard Lestrade call. Snapping out of his reverie, Sherlock noticed the deepening darkness outside the window. As usual, time had passed when he was in deep thought.

"It's time." John said as he nudged his head towards the door.

***

Sherlock tapped his fingers on the table impatiently, his other hand tossing the keys Molly had entrusted him with. His eyes darted on the door at the sound of clicking heels, Irene Adler entering the door a few moments later.

She was wearing her hair low, minimal makeup on her face. She shucked off her thick coat, leaving a dark-green knee-length dress. "Figured this place would have less surveillance." she said.

"I know." Sherlock simply replied.

They studied each other, both of them just standing on either side of the room. "What are you going to tell me?" Sherlock asked, breaking the silence.

Irene pulled a chair and sat, her hands folded on her lap. "I have a proposition."

When Sherlock remained silent, Irene continued. "I'm willing to provide you with all the information you would need about the Norton's and their clients. I will have the messages arranged to be sent to your flat."

"But?" Sherlock replied.

"But I wouldn't want you to invest yourself personally in this case. I understand that your brother wanted you to take this case and you will-just at the comfort of your flat. I know you, Sherlock. With the right information, you could solve this case without leaving 221B." Irene stated, her tone cold.

"Why would you do that?" Sherlock asked.

For a flicker of a moment, Sherlock noticed a change in Irene's gaze. A mixture of worry and nervousness showed but in a blink of an eye, the coldness returned.

"I'm doing you a favour. This is about Albert's clients as well and is very dangerous. You should thank me." Irene replied curtly.

Sherlock strode, walking closer to Irene, his eyes fixed on her. "Favour? How can I be sure that you'll give me the correct information if it will endanger your 'beloved fiancé'?"

Irene raised her eyebrows. "I'm doing this for Godfrey. He has nothing to do with this, don't even have the slightest knowledge of what his father is doing. He's quite contented with the opera troupe we have back at New York."

Sherlock felt the hollow in chest deepen, going straight to his spine. Irene's words stung like an arrow piercing his lungs, his mind trying to make sense of everything.

"You care for him." Sherlock said, his voice barely a whisper.

Irene's eyes grew colder as she heard Sherlock's words. She looked him straight in the eyes, smelling a hint of alcohol and smoke as she drew nearer, her head spinning and her chest pounding at the thought of her next action.

"Care for him? I love him more than any other person I have ever been with." She said, pressing at every word. "You don't have to go to the wedding, by the way."

"Then why give me the invitation?" Sherlock replied, his voice clipped and at the verge of cracking. Still, his eyes grew darker as he maintained his eye contact.

"Sentimental reasons." Irene replied, turning her back on Sherlock. She stopped before leaving him completely, turning to leave one last message.

"My proposition is non-negotiable, by the way. Good night." She said, her pretentious mask peeling off as soon as she turned and walked away, the coldness in her eyes melting in the tears that streamed down her face.

Because telling him the truth was never an option.


	6. Chapters 6 to End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I was sooooo busy that I forgot the fact that I never imported the rest of the fic here. Will try to see if I can update but linked down the rest of the chapters from FF.net if you can't wait!

The rest of the chapters are over at : <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10850280/6/Star-Crossed-on-A-Glass-Case> :) 

Thanks for those who appreciated this story. :)


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